


Tristis Amor

by figbash



Series: Nagron [32]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: Character Study, Friendship/Love, M/M, POV First Person, Pining, Sexual Content, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-29 09:51:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3891865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/figbash/pseuds/figbash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Melancholy Love"</p><p>Nasir and Agron, through the eyes of Castus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [boriqua522](https://archiveofourown.org/users/boriqua522/gifts).



In my travels I have had my dealings with ludi and gladiators. I have journeyed East of the Rhine and found its lands enchanting but its people rather crude. I have witnessed golden-skinned Syrian boys displayed upon auction block like hothouse flowers, waiting to be plucked by jeweled Roman hand. I have seen all of these things as I have sailed across the great oceans of this world. But never have I laid eyes upon one such as Nasir.

I first catch sight of him as we enter gates of Sinuessa, to which they have laid siege. He stands with comrades ready to attack, should we prove threat. They are so tense I cannot help but smile as I observe Heracleo lay playful kisses upon cheek of their leader. Many tales have reached us of Spartacus and his rebel army, but I wonder that ragged troop I look upon is same that could have felled Roman legions. Even the man himself seems like any other, not hulking Thracian of legend who has caused such disruption to the order of things.

They agree to hold discussion. As Heracleo is questioned I survey a crowd of mistrustful faces. It is well known among Cilicians that greater madness of conquest reaps richer reward, but I cannot help but feel we have tread into wolf's den.

“To shit with this _grinning cunt,”_ growls the tall one. “What threat does he hold, pissing on us from the sea?”

Heracleo is testing patience, and this one has none to spare. He is brute, but brute of pleasing form. The people east of the Rhine are nothing if not large and strong. He is loyal hound at side of Spartacus, standing close behind and looking with suspicion upon us as we converse. It is obvious he is not the only one who wishes us to fall forever from sight, but Spartacus appears to be more open of mind. I turn head and smile at the brute, and never does sneer leave his face. It brings me much amusement to knock against his giant shoulder as Heracleo and I take leave.

 

The evening celebrations are mostly without tensions. Thank the gods for wine. I even see the tall one unwind hostility, allowing smile upon face, embracing fellow rebels. He strikes more pleasing form now, as I observe him from distance. I too allow myself to unwind, but then fate collides, all but knocking me upon ground. I turn to find even more pleasing form. The Syrian boy.

“Apologies,” he says, pretty eyes shining with wine.

My gaze sweeps over him as I answer, “Share drink, and see them accepted.”

“My cup is spoken for,” he deflects with ease.

He speaks as one who has known this sort of pursuit, but I am delighted with presented challenge. I shake my head and press further. “I seek not to claim it for my own. Merely... grace lips with its nectar.”

He gives pause to study face and confirm suspected intent. I watch his tongue dart out to lick his lips once it is clear to him. “...You are bold of words.”

I sense I have the tiniest foothold, and I grin broadly as I make modest amendment. “I have been too long at sea. Among... rough company.”

"I do not favor crashing waves," he responds with humor, ending our little game as he turns from me.

But I cannot let such beauty slip so easily from fingers. I catch his arm and lay second attempt. "Words from mouth such as yours could move a man to forever turn from them."

Ah, the smile he gives me! He is not so immune after all. Already I can imagine what fun we could have, losing ourselves in night of debauchery.

Then abruptly I am made aware of exactly who speaks for his cup, and I am both surprised and amused to see that it is the brute from East of the Rhine. But of course it is. I think that his anger burns even hotter to see that it is _my_ hand that dares touch his possession. I see Nasir's kindness as he seeks to excuse my audacity. So too do I see Agron's disregard, as he does not cast single glance in Nasir's direction. In return I keep most attentions upon lovely face of Nasir.

I know I overstep when I throw insult, but I dislike keeping silent in face of oafish bluster. The wine does not aid any effort of restraint, and so the violence received is not entirely undeserved. I find that the wine is quite helpful in soothing the aftermath, though it betrays me with aching head come light of day.

 

At dawn, our meeting beyond city walls yet stands tense. The Romans lay attack and we unite with rebels against mutual enemy. Will it smooth rough edges of alliance, I wonder?

Agron and I manage to keep from further confrontation as I come and go from city port, but he makes certain to let me feel the heat of his hatred any moment we happen to cross gaze. Our tensions are not the only uneasiness in air. I sense them growing heavier with each passing day. At last pressure reaches breaking point, and I see the Gaul and his woman incite a number of rebels to violence. They begin tearing through streets, murdering captive Romans in cold blood. I search desperately for Heracleo, but then I come upon Nasir, and in wordless agreement we rush together to seek aid.

When we inform Spartacus of unrest, I again observe callous behavior from Agron as he pushes between us, spitting angry words at Nasir. I frown at Nasir in question, but find only silence in answer. There is no time to digest meaning, but I tuck the incident away in back of mind.

I wile away many hours in tavern during our trips to Sinuessa. Heracleo entreats me to banish thoughts of Nasir, but despite much misbehavior and revelry, Nasir is never far from mind. It takes only single glimpse of him, going about his duties in the distance, to plunge me into wistful silence. And then I plunge into many cups of wistful wine. 

I wake from drink to find my brothers gone. My forlorn longing has gotten the best of me, and I stand a stranded fool. Anchor-less and adrift, I must endure pain of betrayal as chaos descends upon city. Will I again find sympathy in Nasir's heart, I wonder as bloodshed begins. I know if it is Agron I encounter, he will happily strike me down where I stand, so I choose steps carefully. The gods smile upon me for once on this dark day, for it is indeed Nasir whom I find.

I come upon him just in time, for the Romans have inundated the narrow corridor. There are broad wet splashes of blood on the stone walls, and bodies strewn underfoot. Nasir does not notice Roman that appears behind him, but I ensure my spear strikes home. 

Agron thunders forth just as I finish attack, and my life would be ended but for haste of Nasir's words. Nasir must shout repeatedly to make himself heard through haze of bloodlust and confusion, but thankfully Agron heeds his voice. I am taken prisoner for my troubles, but I am given small comfort when Nasir raises shield against Crixus, for he too seeks to end my life. Then I am left in Nasir's charge, and my captivity no longer stands quite as bleak.

The panic around us swells as we rush to escape city and pursuing Romans appear. Spartacus, Agron and Crixus launch attack to ensure the last of us are through gate. I wonder if we are to stand helpless, watching slaughter of rebellion leaders, before we ourselves fall to same. I glance at Nasir, who does not shout or join panic, but all color has drained from his face. Nasir's eyes do not stray for even half a moment as Agron fights off onslaught. I feel Nasir's fingers tighten unknowingly upon my arm, hard enough to bruise.

At last Spartacus orders his generals to retreat, and Agron is safely beyond gate. He pulls Spartacus from ground after narrow escape, then he turns to Nasir. They do not embrace as Crixus and Naevia do, but Agron lays hand on Nasir's shoulder. They exchange look of relief, then Agron throws me eyes of contempt before he moves past us, following steps of Spartacus. We start upon journey, as fast as feet can carry us.

"Apologies," murmurs Nasir as he leads me along. We have eased pace slightly, when we see that Crassus recalls pursuing soldiers.

"None are required," I tell him with melancholic smile. "Any man with wits about him would act as such, in suspicion of treachery."

"I know not what fate lies for you, upon decision of Spartacus." I hear worry in his voice, and am inwardly pleased that he is moved so.

"If I should fall from this world, I shall hold your kind concern in heart."

"Why did you not betray us alongside your comrades?" he asks.

"As I said, their plans were not known to me."

Nasir frowns in confusion. "You stood as trusted right hand to Heracleo, did you not?"

"Such is the way of pirates. We hold only so much loyalty until we find greener pastures, and flow elsewhere, like currents of sea." I am thoughtful for a moment, then I add, "I do not think I could have agreed to such deception, regardless."

"You are soft of heart, for such a life," he comments.

My eyes are distant for a moment. "I did not always stand so."

Nasir studies my face, and I feel lovely warmth spread over me. His eyes are large and kind, and I am taken with sudden urge to kiss his mouth. It is only thought of self-preservation that suppresses it.

"...Gratitude, for lending aid," Nasir finally says in soft voice.

"I too owe debt of gratitude. My blood might be upon hands of Agron or Crixus, were it not for your interjection."

Nasir nods, though he wears troubled expression, and we continue in silence for a long while.

 

We begin ascent to mountain ridge, and harsh winds batter skin the further we climb. Spartacus intends to make crossing, though I wonder if Crassus has guessed his plans. Perhaps the gods shall freeze us, or perhaps Crassus shall crucify us, or perhaps Spartacus shall have my head upon pike. I do not know which I might prefer, but I am absent choice, so I await what will become of me as I watch rebels make camp. Nasir leaves me with others under guard to assist in new tasks, and I gaze upon his back as he departs. I follow him for as long as he is visible, and then I am left to aching heart, and lonesome imprisonment.

Before long I hear word that I am to remain in bondage, but Spartacus has spared life. I am given bowl of some foul stew, but its warmth is welcome presence in hands. The one called Brictius ensures that it is not in hands for long, however. In place of stew he fills mouth with blood. And then my savior appears once more, barking out dismissal with authority, staring with fire in eyes when that authority is questioned.

 _Agron's boy,_ Brictius calls him. He wounds me as well to speak such, although it is for different reason. The pain is quickly forgotten as Nasir stoops down to share words.

“For such a little man, you speak as if a Titan,” I tease, rejuvenated by his presence.

But Nasir is impatient to my banter. “Do not move me to regret coming to aid.”

He is right, of course. I take more serious tone. “Brictius is a dim brute, but his tongue carries knowledge. I stand a Cilician, and by tether of name, a traitor.”

“None should be darkened by shadow of another's actions.” He is perhaps among the most compassionate of the rebels. I wonder at Nasir's own softness of heart, standing with rebel army in such harsh and bitter world.

“A thing of no importance," I tell him. "I find myself where the fates have led, and call it blessing to find you there as well.”

His laughter is like a gift. His smile is beautiful. “In chains and bloodied, yet still attempting to flatter.”

“I attempt but to live life to the fullest measure,” I say, though my smile falters with anguish underlying words. “And would take arms against Crassus to continue doing so.”

“You wish to fight?”

“Killing Romans was how I gained your trust, was it not? Perhaps if enough fall to my blade, your brothers shall one day be so moved.”

Nasir throws a glance at Agron, who watches like predator preparing to strike. “It... is a decision removed from my hands,” he says, rising. “But know that thought is well received.”

I dislike how he hurries off, as though he is pet called back to master. Yet still I cannot help but watch with fondness as he goes. My eyes turn back to Agron, who I am sure has observed lingering gaze. I give him nod of acknowledgment, and he stares daggers a moment longer before returning to duties.

 

Our misery deepens as the day grows longer and the winds blow heavier. Snow begins to accumulate in folds of our clothing. My body bears uncontrollable shiver as my bound hands clasp together stiffly.

“Castus!” comes Agron's voice.

I look up at him, fearful of his intentions. “Spartacus commands me here. Choice is removed from hand,” I explain quickly. I am unsure whether Nasir's presence will again deter him from violence, and I do not wish to leave it to chance.

“Yet not from mine,” Agron answers, knife in hand. He seems displeased, but absent previous rage.

I look at him with wide eyes. Nasir does not make a move. I can only watch knife as it draws closer, hearing frantic beating of heart. But then Agron severs rope that binds wrists.

I look up at him in confusion. “You would see me free?”

“Action borne of Nasir's plea. Know that absent them, my blade would be slick with Cilician blood," Agron tells me in beleaguered tone. I cannot tell if implied threat is more oafish bluster, or truth.

I am humbled, regardless. “Gratitude."

Once Agron rises to leave, I hazard glance at Nasir. He is beaming with sweetest smile, looking up at Agron with adoring eyes. I am touched that he has made plea for my life, and I feel myself flush with warmth at thought. Suddenly it is a little easier to withstand bitter cold as storm grows yet more merciless.

 

Later, I lay down to slumber in tangle of bodies, with whatever scraps of fabric we can pull around us, desperate for any protection against icy death. The closeness lends comfort too, for I suppose I have now become rebel in army of Spartacus. For a long while I lay staring at ceiling of tent, mulling over new path I have found myself upon, mulling over Nasir. I think of his laugh, his smile and his kindness, like beam of sun in darkness of troubled times. Then something reaches my ear.

The sound is so soft it is barely noise at all, but beyond rustlings of all the others, the sleeping and lovemaking in various places within tent, I hear the sound of Nasir's sigh. I shift just a little bit, then angle my head... _and I see them._ They are huddled closely together on their sides. Nasir's long dark lashes lay shut upon cheek and his mouth is open slightly, and then I notice his grip upon cloak draped over him. Their movement is subtle but now I see it plainly from where I lay. 

How lovely a sight to witness. Do I hold blame if I do not turn from it? Shamelessly I continue vigil.

I imagine how Agron has him beneath wool, secretly working into him, the slide of flesh against flesh, the hand that clutches Nasir's thigh. Agron positions him as he likes, coercing body with firm but gentle hold. Nasir's eyes squeeze more tightly shut as Agron invades further yet, laying quiet kisses upon neck. It is tenderness hidden from view of all but me, tenderness only for Nasir. I imagine Agron's hand pushing Nasir's leg forward as he opens him gradually, urging Nasir to take all of him, needing union between them as storm rages around all of us. They have suffered another sort of storm only just recently, and I wonder if there linger wounds yet to be mended.

I know that I am impetus of their quarrel. At one time I wished it to drive wedge, to forever rend a thing that was more ownership than love. Even now I stand uncertain of true nature. And so flickers my hope, as candle's flame. If Nasir knew of this he would cease to break words with me, but I cling to friendship he offers like breath of life. I keep my secret in dark pit of heart and bide time, though there are moments I fear Nasir can see longing upon face.

It is Nasir's face that I cannot tear gaze from, as his mouth falls open wider, as his chin presses hard into shoulder. His knuckles are white as he clutches the cloak, and his face has blossomed with beautiful flush. Their movements become more discernible as Agron thrusts into him the last few times, and their breathing turns a little more wild. Nasir bites cloth to stifle himself as body shudders visibly, but I listen to his every utterance as though music.

Nasir turns face and Agron is kissing him, and it is sweetest torture to lay so close and yet be barred from their world of two. I am lost in sight of mouths meeting again and again, Nasir's wet lips and sweaty glisten of his skin and raven tangle of his hair. Every last bit of him entrances me like spell. I imagine Agron slipping from him at last, the creamy slickness between Nasir's thighs, the hot exhalation of breath into freezing night air.

For a moment I do not notice that Agron's green eyes have fixed upon me. We regard each other in silence, then Agron lays claim to Nasir's mouth once more. Agron returns gaze to mine, punctuating wordless message to me, seeing it delivered absent obscurity. Eyes still closed, Nasir turns to press cheek to Agron's chest.

There is nothing I would not give to be so desired by him, to feel him reach blindly for me as though seeking missing half of soul. Agron gives me dark smile as he wraps Nasir in closer embrace, and at last I turn away, sinking into dreamless sleep as storm passes us during night.

 

~End Chapter 1~

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The title of this story comes from an unpublished 16th century love letter by Lady Elizabeth Dacre.)
> 
> So 8 long months ago, boriqua522 gave me this prompt:  
>  _I have always wondered how the boys kept warm during that horrible blizzard (hint hint). We all know how Gannicus and Sybil kept warm ;}_
> 
> And because I suck and am a terrible prompt-filler, I not only took 8 months to figure out what I wanted to do with that idea, I also wrote a story instead of drawing a comic. But I do intend to draw a comic version as well, so it's fine, right?
> 
>  
> 
> Some of this was inspired by kinneysexual's sadly unfinished Nasir Meta Project [(http://spuzz.tumblr.com/tagged/spartacus%3A-c%3A-nasir-meta-project).](http://spuzz.tumblr.com/tagged/spartacus%3A-c%3A-nasir-meta-project) While I don't share all of her headcanon, it really made for an interesting read. I particularly like her point about how Castus' opinion of Agron is skewed because he only sees Agron in his more asshole-ish moments.
> 
>  
> 
> And yanno what? I can't blame Castus for being a dirty filthy peeping tom, either. Not gonna lie... if given the opportunity, me and Mira would huddle together in our Ancient Roman sleeping bags and pretend we were asleep, but really we'd be watching the shit out of those secret Nagron sexytimes. Then the following morning we would compare notes over pita and hummus :P
> 
> "Creamy slickness." Mmm-hmm, mmm-hmm. That's about right.
> 
>  
> 
> **Dirty.**  
>  **Ass.**  
>  **Fangirling.**
> 
>  
> 
> :D


	2. Chapter 2

The next day the gods afford me the chance I crave, to prove myself among my new comrades. Of all those it might have been, I am delighted that it is Agron's life I save. He looks at me with stunned expression, then acknowledges my effort with quick nod before we fall to fighting off Romans once more. The tiny recognition is enough to satisfy for the time being. I have hope we have come to understanding, and I have won his grudging acceptance.

I am surprised how my passion for cause deepens as we defeat Romans upon Crassus' wall. My heart feels lighter than it has felt in recent memory as we all cheer Roman retreat. My grin is joyous. I am hungry for next battle.

We journey endlessly, thwarting Roman attack at every turn. Crassus is hot upon heel, and soon it is clear to all that we cannot escape Roman soil before meeting his forces upon battlefield. I wonder if we merely delay inevitable demise, or is it possible to reach free lands?

I think to my life before this, standing upon Heracleo's ship with salt of sea upon face, the many lands and waters traversed, the carnal amusements and lost wine-soaked days. It was as though I wandered lost, absent purpose. The fates are curious in their designs for me now, placing me in thrall to one whose heart is held by another, though I have also been led to join noble cause. I may yet find redemption for sins of past.

At camp I set myself to any task that is asked of me. Spartacus is pleased with my efforts, both on battlefield and off. But perhaps the one I am most eager to impress is Nasir. I find him watching intently as I finish my turn at sparring. Oh how it delights me! I wipe brow and give Nasir smile that says, _I see your eyes upon me,_ and with shame he looks quickly away. It is not the first time I have noticed such a thing, but I feel tiny thrill in my heart with each occurrence.

I have seen Nasir stand as ferocious a fighter as any of the rebels, but I am reminded that he is still so very young. There are things about life and love he has yet to master. In the mean time, he does not quite know what to do with himself when curious eyes wander.

And now I find myself charmed beyond belief, lost beyond hope. _I want him._ I want to show him tenderness that his brute would never dream of, to make him sigh my name like prayer to the gods, to fuck him until that beautiful back arches under pleasures of body. But what catches me unaware is something else that emerges, a desire to feel what it means to truly have him. And now I too fall to confusion. Nasir trespasses upon heart, and he leaves me powerless, half-mad in his wake.

We become more familiar as the days pass. I look forward to the moments when we are able to break words, even if there is only time for precious few. Our friendship is a welcome pleasure for both of us, it seems. In times of war, such things come to sustain a man through many a dark day.

“I lay trust Brictius has not caused further grief?”

I nod with amusement. "His scowl upon me stands a bit less fierce. I suppose it is the most one can hope for, from a Gaul."

“You have gone to great efforts in aiding our cause. He would be wise to count you as ally.”

I take moment to bask in his warm praise before I answer. “I remain most grateful for your words on behalf of my release.”

“To act otherwise would have been unjust,” says Nasir simply, but I suspect there is more to it than that.

“Where did you learn such compassion among so many coarse men, I wonder?” I watch him with fondness, thinking of how he stands apart from the other rebels yet holds position of respect. He fascinates.

A tiny, secret smile appears upon Nasir's lips. "I stood body slave, before knowing freedom by hand of Spartacus."

I raise brow. “A body slave turned warrior..." Lovely new images are conjured in mind, but I dare not describe them. I am tempted to break into secret smile of my own. "It does not bring surprise, however.”

"I cannot guess your meaning."

"Though you are most fearsome in battle..." I pause and then I do allow myself to smile. "Your beauty stands equally so."

He regards me with incredulity. "Still words."

"You would ask a man to still heart?" I cannot help but say. I am pushing luck, but he does not yet appear to take offense.

"You would persist in coquetry despite knowing mine?" chides Nasir.

"Apologies." I grin cheekily. "...I have been too long at sea."

Nasir laughs despite himself. "Do not again blame sea for prurient mind! The fault is your own."

"I shall sustain myself with pleasure of your laughter, if not your affections," I tell him, though I cannot say it is fully truth.

Nasir's face breaks into that secret smile again, looking upon ground and shaking head at my gall. Were I not already ensnared, Nasir's smile would seize my heart in an instant. He would never admit to finding enjoyment in my flattery, but I suspect it to be so. And I am happy to lavish it upon him. So go my lovesick days.

 

I am inventive at finding many ways into Nasir's presence. Today I offer firewood, but my approach is ill-timed, for I find Nasir in conversation with Agron. The smile drops from Agron's face the moment he sees me, but I try to make the best of things. He is soon needed elsewhere, but leaves me with stern words of warning.

“His eyes yet hold the promise of violence,” I say to Nasir with humor, laying down wood.

“Continue to prove yourself against the Romans and see it soften,” he suggests in sympathetic tone.

“The man need not fall to worry in such regard. Yet in matters nearer the heart, his concerns are well founded.” It is a daring thing to say, but I find myself speaking it nonetheless. And I do not care a wit if Agron's eyes are upon me.

Nasir's irritation is clear this time. “Rid yourself of them. And break no more upon subject.”

“If you had laughed carelessly at my words, I would have known feelings misplaced." I narrow my eyes, seeing that my words bear proper weight. "Yet you froth and foam, showing they strike reflective chord.”

He gives a small dismissive laugh. “You mistake reflection for your own.”

“And do I mistake... your eyes stealing glance as I pass? Or breath from lips catching when I draw near?” I challenge, watching Nasir as he looks at me with surprise, then turns back to skinning rabbit.

He does not answer, but I savor the moment, reveling in what hangs in the air. I am silent too as I bring fire to life, letting unspoken words sink into Nasir's heart. When I leave, I give him a nod and a smile.

Nasir cannot meet my gaze for long. "...Gratitude," he says quietly.

 

There comes word that there is to be split in Spartacus' great army. Crixus moves to take Rome, while Spartacus leads towards freedom beyond mountains. Either path stands treacherous, but Crixus is clearly mad to make attempt upon the very capital. If he and comrades are ready to die however, it is as fitting end as any, I suppose. I know that there is also hope they will draw brunt of Roman forces, easing our escape from these hateful lands. But nothing will come easily for us, I am sure. It will be the hardest journey of our lives, but true freedom is worth such price.

We take villa and hold one last celebration. I lean against wall and drink my wine, trying to quiet thoughts that burden mind. Suddenly I spot Nasir, and I open mouth to call out to him, but then I see that he carries two cups, and my words die upon lips. I watch as Nasir goes to Agron with beautiful smile upon face. Again I cannot help envy that darkens heart, wishing it were I that stood recipient of such attentions.

I do not expect the turmoil that I witness. The conversation is not a pleasant one. Before long they are embracing, and when Nasir turns to leave there are tears upon cheek. I catch his eye as he passes, and the sorrow in his face is like blow to chest. He disappears from sight, and I do not find him anywhere until next morning.

We ready ourselves and then we are off, but Agron is not among us. With disbelief I realize they have parted ways, and Agron will follow Crixus in his madness. I cannot think of it as anything more than sentence of death. I cannot fathom casting away gift of love that the gods have blessed him with. Agron stands a fucking fool.

Nasir slips into sullen, black mood like I have never before known of him. My heart is pained to see his spirit so broken, to see love torture him with undeserved wounds. I walk alongside him but do not attempt to break words. Nasir does not protest, and I am glad to provide company.

_If you only knew,_ I think as we walk together, _how I would gather you up in my arms with but single word from your lips. How I would treasure but tiny sliver of your heart. How I would drink but meager drop of your love for him._

Morale suffers great injury after division of our forces. I know Agron and Nasir are not the only ones torn apart by separate paths. Spartacus has warned us that we must grow yet stronger if freedom is to remain in grasp, so we continue training. 

At times it feels as though we simply await ax to fall upon neck, but at other times we are uplifted by news of victories of Crixus' army. With surprising speed they progress steadily towards Rome, but then abruptly we hear no more, and our hearts sink. Naevia herself tells the tale of their fate, arriving to our camp on horseback, more dead than alive. In her arms she cradles head of Crixus.

I find Nasir as he emerges from tent of Spartacus. His eyes are dazed, and for a moment he looks at me as though I am unknown to him. He drifts past without a word, and I know he has been delivered answer as to fate of Agron.

I do not expect to see Nasir returned to training duties the next day, but I am hopeful the exertion of body eases heavy burden of grief. I watch as the young recruit before him makes mistake, exposing himself to attack by lowering guard. Nasir lashes out with angry words and a sudden vicious strike across nose. He raises hand to strike again and quickly I interrupt him.

"Nasir!! Point is well made." I am much disturbed by the abuse Nasir lays on the boy. He acts as though he is a man possessed.

"Take meal and reflect upon lesson," Nasir dismisses him, not quite as harshly.

"Come, let us fill discontent of stomach as well," I entreat.

Nasir does not even cast glance. "I am of no desire," he grits out.

"Nor of nourishing words?" I offer gently, coming closer when he does not give answer. "You've partaken of none since unfortunate news.”

“You hold it so?” Nasir smiles briefly, then his eyes seem to glow with the fire of his anger as he turns them upon me. "Does it not _lift spirit_ knowing the man that stood between you and hearts' union has been forever removed from path?"

The words are like daggers in chest, but I do not let them reach my heart. Instead it aches for Nasir, that his pain would drown such gentle soul in bitterness and sorrow.

"I often held disagreement with Agron, yet I am not absent feeling towards his fate. Or wound inflicted upon one so undeserving." I reach out to touch his face before I realize what I do.

He knocks my hand away, like tip of dagger grazing heart. "You would turn grief into fucking opportunity?!"

Ashamed, I attempt explanation. "I seek only to give comfort."

But it does not cool his anger in the least. A hard fist hits my cheek. "You seek what you always have!" spits Nasir. "Agron is gone from this world because of it!"

"He is gone because he made choice," I tell him in measured tone, but Nasir strikes me again.

"He is gone because of _me!_ He would not have left with Crixus had he not seen the way my eyes fell upon you!" Another strike, weaker than the last. He swings wildly once more, but then I catch him as he collapses.

"The fault lies only in the times that we live... and in the gods, that they turn away from the suffering of good men..."

Never did I imagine I would know the feel of him in my arms, but the gods mock me, for Nasir sheds tears for another who will forever hold his heart. What curious amalgam of misery and rapture I feel as I hold Nasir, and moisture wells in my own eyes. I do not wish to let him go. If this is the only way to have him in my arms, then I shall savor this moment's bittersweet taste upon tongue. I release him regretfully when he regains himself.

"Go. Take rest." I hate the unsteadiness I hear in my voice. Nasir looks at me and I see face that is painfully young, large beautiful eyes lost in anguish.

My love for him is unbearable weight upon my stolen heart.

_"Go,"_ I say again, and reluctantly he does.

 

Spartacus announces that we are to hold arena games of sorts. Immediately I fall to worry. I do not wish to see Nasir defeated upon sands, weakened by crushing grief. My eyes are upon him and no other, as Spartacus leads combatants out before a roaring crowd. Nasir stands gripping spear, motionless as though he is carved from stone. He comes alive once it is his turn in our makeshift arena, and I watch with anxious eyes. His movements are incredible, landing strikes that are artful as well as deadly. I cannot believe this is the same man who collapsed in my arms, fragile like glass.

I find myself cheering with crowd before long, rejoicing in bloody vengeance for suffering of so many. For the briefest time we forget our troubles, our grief and the horrible journey that yet lays ahead. Cruel awakening soon comes, when Naevia is denied killing blow to sniveling son of Crassus. The wave of outrage from crowd threatens to cause riot, but somehow Spartacus calms us. The gods have seen fit to offer further respite from our pain.

I stand watching with Nasir and Naevia as flood of prisoners is returned to camp. Some barely cling to life, but I see how they brighten when they find waiting arms for them. I want to pull Nasir away, to shield him from pain of witnessing one happy reunion after another. His face is veiled in sadness, but it is absent resentment. He is glad to see the good fortune of others. He is still such kind soul, despite his suffering.

“Would that those we held to heart stood among them," Nasir says quietly.

Just as the words leave his lips, I see phantom appear in distance. My breath catches and there is ache in chest, but truly I am happy for him.

“Nasir.”

He glances back at me and then he too turns to see Agron. Immediately Nasir weaves through crowd as though the gods themselves move him, pulled by invisible thread of fate. Though I stand envious as I watch their reunion, it is perhaps the first time I understand what is between them. Agron stands broken in every sense, but Nasir bears his larger form upon shoulder and leads him away. Nasir is strong, but he grows yet stronger because Agron needs it of him.

It is a sacred thing. It is a beautiful thing.

 

Nasir disappears to tent anytime he is not engaged. I dearly miss his company and conversation, but I know the importance of what draws him away. His devotion stands unwavering as he slowly returns Agron to the living. It is nothing short of miracle that Agron begins to walk without aid in such little time.

Then one day Nasir finds me as I go about duties.

"There is favor I would ask of you."

"Anything," I answer.

"You are familiar with crafting of weapons, are you not?"

"...I am," I tell him hesitantly, unable to guess his purpose.

"Agron wishes to join in battle once again."

"Then he has lost mind," I say. "He will never again grip sword."

"I have thought upon this,” answers Nasir, undeterred. “Will you lend aid?"

I frown, feeling devastating drop of stomach as I come to realization. “...You intend to join battle as well.”

“I believe he is set upon doing so. And if he does, I shall follow."

His will seems immovable. He does not betray hint of fear at prospect of such dire odds. I am struck with bravery of one so young, but still I wish brighter future for him.

“Surely you can part veil and show reason. It is not dishonorable to seek well-deserved freedom beyond mountains, rather than death upon battlefield.”

“He spoke his brother's name at ceremony,” Nasir reveals to me in solemn voice. “It is not dishonorable to seek fitting end to long struggle. If he should fall from this world, he shall depart in warmth of loving embrace, as did his brother.”

For a moment we share smile that is sweet with affection of our friendship, and a mixture of many other things that shall never be. I sigh, for it is clear to us both I yet remain heartsick fool for him. Finally I nod, and then together we visit blacksmith.

Our work is rather makeshift, but end result is sturdy and deadly. I cherish every moment of sweaty labor, toiling by Nasir's side. My heart is lifted when at last I am able to make him laugh again. As Agron has healed, so too has Nasir.

 

"I shall miss you," Nasir tells me, the last morning before battle. He runs hand over the red serpent that adorns shield, pulling at the straps, smiling at the work we have completed together.

"Do not speak as though you already place foot in afterlife. You are skilled warrior," I say.

Nasir's smile takes on tinge of sadness as he looks at me. "...Apologies, for unkind words I spoke to you. I was-"

I shake my head. "You are kindest soul I have ever known, Nasir. The world would be better place, were there more who stood same."

Nasir's eyes shine for a moment. "Where will you go, beyond mountain path?"

I cast my gaze to the ground. "...I too shall join battle."

"Castus..."

"It is fitting for me to fight by your side one last time, is it not? I find myself in agreement with Agron... it does make one feel alive like nothing else."

Nasir nods, and though I can tell he harbors concern, he is respectful of decision. Do we too stand as fucking fools, charging headlong into certain death because of love? As much as mind urges otherwise, I must listen to heart.

 

The night before battle, Crassus and Spartacus exchange words upon battlefield. We stand as ready as we shall ever be, looking with defiance upon assembled Romans. When daylight breaks, our opposing armies face each other across the great swath of land. The Romans hold advantage of numbers, but we have several plans in place to lessen them, and soon there are piles of them impaled upon spikes in trench before us. Fearlessly we charge up ramps and into battle, taking down one soldier after another.

It is impossible to explain exactly what occurs when one is in battle. Before signal to attack, you stand as beast chomping at bit, shifting restlessly on feet, clenching jaw and weapon. Your body craves blood like demon, like unquenchable thirst. Then at last battle begins, and you are at once bathed in blood of your enemies. You taste it upon tongue and breathe it in every breath, and it is glorious. You begin to feel as a god, no longer made of flesh and bone. You begin to believe that nothing shall strike you down.

Nasir shouts my name and I can barely turn before the blow splits my chest and I fall heavily. My breath is labored and my vision blurred, but I know that I am in Nasir's arms. It is like final gift from the gods before I fall from the world, and it feels as though those last beats of heart are for him, to wrest a few more moments of happiness before I am to lose him forever.

My eyes take in his beautiful face one last time. “Would that I had been you, for but a day.”

The last words that fall from my lips in this world. How curious that the words should be more for Agron than Nasir. But such was my choice upon that bloody battlefield, and I hold no regrets.

After that, there was darkness.

And after that, Dear Readers, is a secret that you will each discover yourselves some distant day. With the grace of the gods, you will fall from this world with love in your hearts, as I did in mine.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is one way I might have done this storyline, if I were Figbash S. DeKnight :) I think the idea behind this story arc was quite interesting and it's unfortunate it was so underdeveloped in the series. They used Castus as a way to get Agron to leave Nasir to go with Crixus, but there's more to be explored there.
> 
>  
> 
> Like Agron before him, I think Castus' initial lust for Nasir grows into love at some point. I think Agron only realizes Castus had fallen in love with Nasir after he hears Castus' last words as he dies in the final battle. Agron looks at him, and I think his expression implies that he empathizes with Castus' feelings. They both love Nasir.
> 
>  
> 
> Here's how I see the players in this triangle:
> 
> -Agron is still dealing with the trauma of losing Duro and it makes him overprotective of the one he loves and overreactive when he sees a threat. We saw in Blood & Sand how bossy/overbearing Agron could get when he was trying to keep Duro from harm, and this has clearly carried over and gotten worse now that he's in love with Nasir. Don't forget to give your babe some breathing room, Agron!
> 
> -Nasir feels an attraction -and he has chemistry with Castus- but Castus is also his friend, and he values that friendship. This kind of situation would be difficult for anyone, but it complicates things further that Nasir has been a slave possibly since childhood. Only recently has he had the freedom to make his own choices. He's been fighting in the rebel army and has grown in so many ways, but it's a big world outside those villa walls. Also, he's still very young (I imagine him being around 20 or so in WOTD) and there's alot he has yet to experience in life as a free man.
> 
> -Castus sees a gorgeous guy with his seemingly assholeish meathead boyfriend and thinks, "If you were mine, I'd treat you way better." In addition to his attraction, he comes to admire Nasir, who is more than capable of kicking tons of ass but is equally capable of showing kindness and compassion for those around him, even Romans. (Let's not forget, Nasir saves Castus' life not just once, but *several* times!) Castus nurses his crush and hopes against hope, but like I depicted in the story, I think perhaps Castus finally realizes Nasir will never love anyone else when he sees the love between Nasir and Agron when they're reunited.
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> 
> In short, I've got sympathy for all 3 of them and I love them all. _Like the sands of the arena... so are the days of our lives..._ :D


End file.
